~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Solar: September 3, 1971, Friday, Noon

Lunar: 7-14-71 Year of the Pig

Containing Metal of Bracelets

Month of the Dog

Hour of the Monkey

The lithe young man ran after his CO, heedless, for once of the possibility

of booby traps and spider holes littering the trail. A long-legged 6'4",

Harry strode so briskly that Walter was forced to sprint to catch up and

stay along side him, pissing him off big time.

"I was listening to the orders you just got from the Captain. You're

disobeying every goddamned last one of them," Walter growled. "You aren't

even going in the right direction. You're not going to have a career if you

keep this up. You've GOT to fight Madame Ly, Harry. You threw her out for

almost an hour once. Talk to me! I know that you're in there....."

"SHUT UP, BABY KILLER!" Harry/Madame Ly yelled. With the butt end of hir

M16, s/he punched hir lover in his gut, and watched him go sprawling

backward.

Walter fell on his ass into the mud, and his breathing quickened, as his

possessed lover stood over him tensed, waiting, coiled to strike again. His

gut felt as though a truck had rammed into it, but his physical pain was

nothing compared to his emotional pain.

//I'm so fucking stupid. This is all my fault. Why did I have to go to all

those goddamned priests? I must have had my head up my ass. If only I had

just toked and drank my guilt away like everyone else in 'Nam, Harry

wouldn't be going through this. There's got to be a way to get past that

bitch, and save him. I've just got to save him before...//

Walter's eyes became huge with fear as he imagined being beaten to death by

Harry before he could save him. As Walter looked up at his abuser, he spoke

in careful, measured tones. "If you're going to let her hit me again, I just

want you to know that my rib hasn't had time to heal yet, and my stomach

ulcer could rupture if you aren't careful. Maybe you could have her start

working my kidneys over again. I've stopped pissing blood, so they can take

some more abuse."

Instinctively, Walter closed his eyes and clutched his agonized belly to

shield himself from the blow sure to come.

After several long moments, he opened his eyes, and when he did, he couldn't

believe it. This couldn't be Harry, the winner the winner of two Purple

Hearts, and a Bronze Star. This couldn't be the guy that he'd wanted to be

all his life who was staring down at him in such terror, his mouth twisting

and grimacing as if he were barely able to hold back a scream.

"Help," Walter's hero finally croaked pathetically.

The sight of him so helpless and afraid galvanized Walter from scared to

terrified. He jumped up and grabbed the big man by his shoulders. "What can

I do? I'll do anything. Anything."

Harry stared at Walter; his expression softening to tenderness mixed with

heartbreaking sadness. Trembling, he crushed Walter to him, and kissed him

fiercely over and over, his big hands roaming over his lover's body,

stroking and squeezing it as if he'd never get enough. Harry's passion sent

exquisitely painful shocks throughout Walter's body, but it was the first

happy moment in days for both of them, and neither wanted it to stop.

Walter reluctantly broke the kiss, but couldn't bring himself to leave

Harry's embrace. "We can't do this shit out in the open. Think of your

career. We've got to hide," he said breathlessly, looking up into Harry's

tortured eyes, "someone could see us."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Corpses don't have careers, kid."

Walter shook the big man's shoulders. "Harry, for fuck sake, don't say

that!"

"Why the hell not? We both know it's the truth. Please, kid," he said

desperately. "If you love me, you'll fuckin' shoot me. Please! I love you,

and I'd rather die than hurt you, and shit, that's all I've fucking done

since we left the temple."

"I can take it," Walter said stubbornly. "If I know that you're fighting

her, I don't care if she makes you beat the crap out of me every day of my

life, if that's what it takes to keep you alive."

Harry's face crumpled in agony, as he caressed Walter's face. "Oh no, baby,

no. You don't understand. That's not an option. She's going to make me do

shit so bad that I'll make Hitler look like Jesus, and not just to you."

Walter shook his head adamantly. "NO! I'm not killing you! That's just what

that bitch wants, which means that we shouldn't give in!"

Harry put his hands on Walter's shoulders, his voice took on a wheedling

tone, "Look, if it's prison that you're worried about, we can get around

that. I'll fight her long enough to attack you for no good reason in front

of a witness. That way, you'll be totally justified in killing me, and that

vicious cunt will never get her fucking revenge. Now, please, please, say

you'll do this for me, baby. I don't want to live any more."

Walter grabbed Harry's arms, pinned them to his sides, and shook him. "I

SAID NO! Pull yourself together, godddamn it! I'm not going to kill you, and

you aren't going to kill anyone, but the fucking VC. We can fight this! You

did it once! Hell, you're doing it now! I'll chant with you like I did last

time, and if you and I keep working on it, you'll be able to resist her for

longer and longer periods of time, until...SHIT!"

Harry grabbed Walter's face between his hands, and squeezed until the boy

yelped. "CORPORAL SKINNER, PAY THE FUCK ATTENTION TO ME! I'm trying to save

lives, including yours! I don't have time to argue with you, you stubborn,

insubordinate little fucker. That ritual in the temple fucked us over even

worse than the Old Woman had time to tell you."

Walter shut his eyes, his only avenue of escape from left him, but Harry

wasn't having it. "ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?" He said as he gave his corporal

a brutal shake. "Remember all that crap about lucky and unlucky dates in

"their months"? That "their months" shit was a loophole. The Vietnamese use

the lunar calendar instead of the solar one like we use...which Madame Ly

conveniently forgot to mention. The date that you chose by the solar

calendar for your ritual was the unluckiest day of the lunar year. When you

combine that with the feng shui of the temple, there's no way we'll break

whatever spells we both cast there. The only way out of the worst of it is

for you to kill me."

Walter put his hands over the big man's and stroked them lovingly. "Harry, I

can't shoot you. I can't!"

"You've got to do this my way, baby," Harry said gently, "You aren't strong

enough to take me without a weapon, and no one's going to help you out. Your

reputation for being a weirdo has most people afraid to take your side

unless the evidence is in your favor beyond a shadow of a doubt. Shooting

me's your only option. I know I can fight her long enough so it looks like

you're killing me in self-defense, I promise. C'mon. Please tell me you'll

do this for me, baby."

Walter tried to shake his head, but those big hands held him like lion

holding its cub. Finally, overcome by helpless rage, he blurted out whatever

he could to stop Harry's heartrending pleas for death. "FUCK YOU! Why stop

at asking me to shoot you, you bastard! Why not ask me to stab you in your

fucking back?" He stopped, and bit his lip. "Christ, what am I saying? I

already have, and there's nothing I can do to make it right, is there? Not

really."

Harry held his trembling corporal for as long as he dared, and stroked his

back, his own taut muscles belying the effort and pain of this gesture of

comfort. "Shh, shh, baby, it's not your fault. I don't blame you for this,

and I don't care what happens to me. I just don't want to hurt you any more,

or anyone else. I can't stop myself forever. You've got to kill me."

"I CAN'T! I WON'T, I WON'T!" Walter yelled.

Harry stiffened and jerked in agony the way he always did when Madame Ly

reasserted her possession of his body. S/he pushed the terrified young man

away, and lurched down the road full speed toward the ville.

Walter ran after hir. "HARRY!!! HEY YOU! MOTHERFUCKER! COME BACK HERE!" He

yelled, and sprinted after him, screaming and cursing, hoping to make him

stop, fearful of what Harry would do if he couldn't stop him.

Nothing worked. They were leaving the platoon far behind, but Harry didn't

stop until they came upon an old man working in the rice paddy. The old man

looked up at them, waved his arms, and yelled "Zung lie! Zung lie!"

Walter screamed, "STOP, HARRY! THERE MUST BE A TRAP! He's trying to warn us

that..."

Harry snarled, and machine-gunned the unarmed farmer where he stood before

Walter could finish his sentence.

Walter stopped, stunned, and stared at his C.O. "You murdered him. You

fucking MURDERED HIM!! My GOD! OH SHIT! WHAT THE ***FUCK*** WILL WE DO?!"

Harry looked puzzled for a moment as if he was just now seeing everything,

then his face contorted.

To his horror, superimposed over Harry's face, Walter briefly saw the face

of the Vietnamese child that he had been forced to shoot, followed in quick

succession by Madame Ly's. "SHIT!"

"That's a little foretaste of what's to come if you don't kill your lover

now," Harry/Madame Ly said coldly. "I want you to be executed in disgrace,

bereft of the only one who truly loves you, just as I was, just as my son

was. How many deaths is it going to take, before you decide to take your

punishment like a man, little boy?"

Walter's mind gibbered at him non-stop in terror, but he would be damned

before he showed it. "Harry didn't do anything to you," he said bitterly,

"If it's revenge you want, then let me be the one to die. I'll gladly kill

myself any way you'd like, if it means you'll leave Harry's body."

"I'm not so kind," s/he said with cold contempt. "I want you to accept

responsibility for what you've done, but more than that; I want you to be

disgraced and suffering before you die. My son died in agony, and so should

you. Face it, boy. There's no hope for either you or your lover. The only

thing you can do now is to make sure others don't die because of your

irresponsibility."

"I'm not going to kill him! I'll find a way out of this! I'll, I'll have him

committed!" Walter said desperately.

"On what grounds?" Harry/Madame Ly laughed. "You have no credibility. Not

even your lover thinks you have any. If anything YOU'D get committed, but

just for the sake of argument, let's say that you DO get him committed. I'll

make sure he'd behave so crazily that he'd never get out. Harry would be

trapped in a living death for the rest of his excruciatingly long life, and

he'd hate you for it, boy. Even I have no desire to be *that* cruel to your

lover...unless you force me."

"You evil dog-fucking whore, I hate you! I hope you rot in hell!" Walter

spat out.

Harry/Madame Ly's gray eyes darkened, hir face reddened with anger. "You

just lost your last chance to avert disaster," s/he said ominously, and then

became all solicitous attention as soon as s/he saw a tall athletic, African

American Marine running towards them.

Murphy loped up, saw the old man's body, and asked, "I heard shots fired.

What happened here, sir? Are there more of them here? Do I need to get the

rest of the men?"

Harry grinned at Murphy, and clasped Walter affectionately on the shoulder.

"Calm down, private. Corporal Skinner thought papasan was lobbing a grenade

at me, and shot the poor fucker."

"Holy fucking shit!" Murphy whistled, his almond-shaped, brown eyes

widening. "The ville is gonna have our asses!"

"Not if we all keep our mouths shut. He'll just be missing, as far they'll

know. It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened during this

war." Harry walked over to Murphy, and slung his arm over his shoulder. He

gave him a dazzling smile, and spoke to him conspiratorially. "You'll keep

this to yourself, won't you Murphy? We wouldn't want the kid to catch hell

for this when he thought he was saving his C.O.'s life, now would we?"

"Shit no, sir, anyone of us would have made that mistake!" Murphy grinned

back. "You take good care of us!

"Good man," Harry said, and patted Murphy on the back. "Why don't both of

you give the old man a decent burial before the locals figure out what

happened, okay? Oh, Murphy, while you're at it, take care of this kid for

me, willya? He hasn't been the same since....well, you know."

"Yes, sir!" Murphy said enthusiastically. "You can count on me, SIR!"

Walter stood there numbly, not knowing how to respond. Madame Ly's phony

kindness could only mean that whatever she forced Harry to do would be

unspeakably horrible, but there was no way that Private "I'm bucking for

promotion" Murphy would understand it or help him stop it. He passively

allowed them both to pat him on the back.

Harry/Madame Ly beamed at the private. "Yeah, Murphy, I knew I could. Now

since, Skinner's....recovering, I'm going to play point man, and scout a

little ahead. Rest when you're through with the grave, because it may be the

last break you'll get for awhile." Harry waved, and went off.

"Shit, he takes good care of us just like a father, doesn't he? When you

serve under some of the worthless sons of bitches I have, you learn to

appreciate men like him. We're lucky to have him, aren't we, Walt?" Murphy

said admiringly as he looked at Harry going down the muddy, red road.

"Yeah. Lucky." Walter said numbly.

Misinterpreting the cause of Walter's distress, Murphy insisted on digging

the grave by himself, and kindly burbled clichés of comfort to Walt as he

worked.

He needn't have bothered. Walt wasn't paying attention. He never took his

eyes off the back of his retreating C.O. Not father, mother, Walter firmly

corrected Murphy in his mind...and Walter couldn't help but wonder how much

longer mamasan would wait before she brought back death to feed her adopted

cubs.

He sat morosely on a rock, as Murphy tamped down the grave, and watched the

rest of the platoon as they straggled in. They joined Murphy and Walter,

laughing and talking, glad to have the rest.

Parker, a tall, gaunt, skinheaded boy with protuberant blue eyes, looked at

them slyly. "Hey Murphy, is Weird Wally makin' you dig him up a vampire, or

a ghost, or sumthin'?"

The rest of the platoon laughed raucously, and poked each other in the ribs

when Walter began to blush.

Murphy threw down his shovel as hard as he could, and everyone grew quiet at

the unusual display of temper from the easygoing man. "Lay off Skinner,"

Murphy said in a kindly tone, but with a narrowed-eyed, frozen-faced look of

warning. "He just 'bout caught a fucking grenade for Matthews!"

"Crazy sumbitch oughtta take one," Parker said sullenly, looking red-faced

with embarrassment. He looked down at his boots, and toed patterns into the

red, slushy mud. "Matthews lets 'im get away with enough shit often enough

to!"

"I can see why you'd think Skinner's crazy," Murphy said with exaggerated

reasonableness. "He's saved your scrawny behind often enough to qualify.

Took a bullet for you at least once, as recall."

Parker swallowed, and nodded, his bulging eyes blinking.

The silence grew oppressive, as the men watched Murphy walk to Parker, and

glower at him eye to eye. Parker flinched at the anger he saw there, and

lowered his eyes. He guiltily stole a glimpse of Walter, and flinched even

more.

The rest of the platoon shifted uncomfortably as they saw what he saw.

On top of his rock, Walter sat, pale and listless, and hunkered over and

holding his legs, his chin propped up on his knees. The stark contrast to

his normal, ceaseless energy was frightening. His eyes stared into space,

horrified by what only he could see.

"Didn't mean nuthin' by what I said, Skinner," Parker mumbled, staring at

the ground, "Jus' a joke. That's all." When he heard no reply, he looked up

at Walter nervously, and said, "Goddamn! You okay?"

Walter was shaking, his eyes wild with fear, as he pointed at the rustling

jungle greenery. "She's here!" he croaked. "Everyone just stay the fuck away

from me. It's me she wants!" He grabbed his M16, and aimed.

The greenery parted, and out staggered Lieutenant Harry Matthews, clutching

his bleeding gut with one hand, and his weapon with the other. "She...she...

said it was too late...Stay away...she'll make me..." he groaned, and fell

flat on his face.

"HARRY! OH FUCK, NO!" Walter yelled in anguish, throwing his M16 to the

ground, running toward his lover.

Before the boy could reach him, Harry floated into the air, his body moving

eerily and unnaturally, and fired a spray of bullets that slammed into

Walter's gut, ripping away young flesh, spattering the jungle with his

blood.

Walter screamed and dropped to the ground, clutching his belly, and Harry,

thrown by an unseen force to the ground with a thump like a piece of

discarded garbage, howled in helpless agony.

Madame Ly flew out of Harry's body, and circled over the Walter's like the

Goddess of Vultures, screeching in fury. "This isn't over Walter Sergei

Skinner. You weren't the one who killed him! You didn't stand trial for

murder! You haven't paid for killing my son! If you survive, you'll kill the

next person you fall in love with before I let you rest, and if you die,

I'll make sure your soul goes straight to hell!"

The men gaped at her; paralyzed with fear, stunned by the knowledge that

Weird Walter hadn't been so weird after all.

"What the fu..." Parker started to say, but before he could finish his

sentence, his head exploded as bullets rained upon the stunned platoon in

all directions.

Black clad, sandal wearing VC soldiers jumped out of the trees, crawled from

spider traps, and poured from both ends of the trail, outnumbering the

platoon four to one. Most of the marines never even had a chance to aim

their weapons, and fell where they stood, their blood spilling out, and

turning the olive uniforms grayish red. It wasn't a battle. It was a

slaughter. It was over in less than ten minutes, and the VC merged back into

the jungle, satisfied with a job well done-no survivors.

The air was filled with the familiar smells of burning, bleeding flesh, and

the sounds of the screams and gurgling last breaths of the dying. Above it

all, Madame Ly shrieked incoherently, obviously maddened by her failure at

being driven to this extreme, ignoring everything that went on below her, as

she continued to rave about Walter.

Harry took advantage of the opportunity the ghost's madness gave him to do

the only thing that both he and Walter wanted before they died. With grim

determination, Harry crawled over shrapnel and guns, and by the bodies

twisted in unnatural positions that gushed blood like fountains, inch by

agonizing inch, until he reached his lover. With the last of his strength,

he gathered Walter into his arms, and held him, and brushed a kiss against

his cheek. "You don't have to...oh GOD, hurts!... worry about me any

more...AH SHIT!...I won't hurt you. I'm free, baby. Please...forgive me," he

said, nuzzling Walter, every word a stabbing pain to utter.

Walter started to cry, his body and his heart utterly broken. "My fault,

Harry. Should have listened to you, not run off. Never would have happened.

Never wanted to hurt you. Love you...love you."

Harry looked tenderly at Walter, the light already leaving his eyes. "So

young...love you...so much to say...can't...love you, always loved you..."

His eyes rolled back in his head, blood filled his mouth, and with one last

wet, pain wracked, gurgling breath, Harry died.

"Harry..." Walter sobbed, but he knew it was too late. The most important

man in his life would never again be there to show him the way, to laugh

with him, to hold him, to love him. He was alone, and always would be alone,

or what had happened to Harry would happen to anyone else that he loved. As

he lay dying, listening to the screams of his friends dying around him all

because of him, Walter wondered how he could have had so much to regret in

just 18 short years, and how he could have trusted the priestess when he

knew so little about her.

He felt as though he was one of the village priests who encouraged the

temple vipers to stay with food and water, in spite of the deadly danger to

those who came to worship. The snakes were so well suited to their jungle

environment that they appeared to be strangely beautiful hanging vines of

blues, and greens, and yellows. Their true nature was obvious to the

observer only in retrospect, after the fangs had sunk in, and the poison was

coursing through the body of the worshipper.

With that image, he went beyond mere intellectual understanding. The horror

of what he had done hit him with a clarity and force that destroyed all of

his illusions, and he could hear them breaking with a sickening crunch like

the breaking of bones, and Walter lost his will to live. When the tunnel

with the white light appeared over him, in his despair, he went through

without a struggle.

He saw himself rising above his lifeless body, watching the blood flow out

of it in a hundred places. He felt so peaceful, so pain free, smiling at the

thought of spending eternity with Harry. He took one last look at his body

lying in Harry's huge, muscular arms, marveling how small and frail it

looked in comparison, and ran down the tunnel calling for Harry.

He saw the mists, and as soon as he called for Harry again, they parted,

revealing what he would have called heaven, except that it was far too

sensual in its splendor. It was on a warm, sunny, verdant Mediterranean

island covered with flowers, and vines and pine and cedar forests, and

beautiful marble and gold Greek temples, set in a sparkling aquamarine and

sapphire blue ocean. There were men and women there, mostly men, dressed in

tunics of rich fabrics mock fighting, and laughing, and talking...all of

them breathtakingly radiant and beautiful.

He saw Harry, and stood speechless for a moment, drinking him in. Harry had

been handsome in life, but here he was godlike. Walter burst out laughing

for joy, and ran toward him. "Harry, Harry, Harry," he said, waving at him.

Harry ran toward him, swooped him up in his arms, and whirled them around.

He rained kisses on Walter's face, then gave him a hard swat on the ass. "Go

kid! I'll never stop loving you, but you don't belong here," he said firmly,

his face hard as stone.

Walter jerked up, surprised to feel pain again, hurt at the rejection, and

looked into Harry's eyes. "Why are you doing this? It's over! We're dead! We

can do anything we want! Why shouldn't I stay?"

Harry shook his head sadly, "Don't you remember what that bitch said? She'll

drag you down to Hell, and you'll never get out! You have to leave so that

you can be safe in the afterlife, baby. The next time you die, I want you to

come here, and you can't do that unless you go back to your body, and fight

her."

Walter looked away, and bit his lip, struggling with his frustration, and

anger, and sadness. He turned back, and said, "Why can't we fight her here?

Why can't you fight with me? I would for you," he said accusingly.

"I know you would, baby. Believe me, if I could have done anything for you,

it would have been done already, without you having to ask me," Harry said

soothingly, caressing Walter's face. "There's only one place you can turn to

for help now. Let her help you." He gestured over to a grove, and Walter saw

the Old Woman riding toward them on the back of a tiger.

The Old Woman dismounted, and stretched out her hand to Walter. "Time to go

back, my little one. You have unfinished business."

"NO! I don't want to leave Harry..." Walter said, anguished at the thought.

"You must little one," The Old Woman said sternly. "You'll spend eternity in

the Taoist Hell if you don't, and you'll drag Harry there with you! Remember

what happened the last time that you disobeyed his orders? You love him

don't you? You want what's best for him, don't you? What's it to be little

one? We haven't much time if I'm to help you."

Harry saw Walter's face crumple up with misery and guilt, and he started to

protest on his lover's behalf, but the Old Woman shushed him irritably.

"I'll go back," Walter whispered, hanging his head in shame.

The Old Woman wrinkled into a kindly smile. "You did the right thing, little

one. Harry knows you love him, don't you Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry said, smiling lovingly at Walter who was looking at him

bashfully. "I hope he knows I love him too."

Walter nodded, then grabbed him for one, last bear hug, and a kiss that

would have to last Walter for the rest of his life.

The Old Woman gently broke them away from each other, and lifted Walter into

her arms. "I'm sorry, little one, but it's time to go."

Walter nodded at her, then waved goodbye to Harry until he could no longer

see him as the Old Woman carried him back down the tunnel. They shot through

the white light at a terrifying speed, and he was thrust into a suffocating,

pain-filled darkness. He panicked, wondering if he'd been wounded so badly

that he'd gone blind.

He felt the Old Woman kiss his forehead. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of

this, little one," she crooned.

He heard and felt her thump against something, and heard voices coming as

though from a great distance.

"Hey Sarge!" a voice said.

"Hey what, Frohike?" Sarge said.

"We bagged this one up too soon," Frohike said. "He moved."

"Aw, Frohike, you're dreaming," Sarge said, "Pull your head out, and get

back to work."

"Okay, I will," Frohike said, "but it won't hurt to unzip the bag, and

check..."

"GODDAMN IT, FROHIKE, YOU UGLYASSED DWARF, I SAID TO...well, I'll be

damned," Sarge said wonderingly. "He IS alive."

Crystal City, Virginia

Walter Skinner's Apartment

May 9, 1998 11:00 PM Solar Calendar

4-14-98 Lunar Calendar

Year of the Earth Tiger, Containing Earth On Wall

Month of the Snake

Hour of the Boar

The vision faded, and Mulder's mind was once again filled with the face of

Madame Ly.

"Now do you understand why I showed you this?" she leered at him.

"Walter..." Mulder choked, and struggled to speak. "Walter fell in love with

me, didn't he? The poor son of a bitch couldn't go a lifetime without caring

for another human being. He's too good a man, even after you fucked him

over! That's why you came back. You could finally get your revenge!"

"Yes, but why did I tell you?" she said smugly. "Come on, show off for me,

Agent Mulder. Show me why you got your reputation for being the FBI's best

profiler."

Mulder licked his lips, and sucked in his lower lip, gathering his strength

to reply. He took a deep breath, and began, welcoming a chance to delay her

plans just a little longer, since time was the only thing she valued. "You

wanted to make sure that I stayed in love with him, that I loved Walter as

much as he's afraid to show that he loves me," Mulder said bitterly. "That

way, when you force him to murder me, it'll be almost as painful for him to

kill me as it would have been for him to kill Harry."

"Very good," she said smiling. "Now we must go. He's waiting for us there,

although he doesn't know it."

"Fuck you," Mulder spat out. "I'm going home. I'm going to write a suicide

note, telling the world how guilty I feel about giving Scully her cancer.

I'm going to say that I waited until she'd either passed on, or recovered,

so she wouldn't have to deal with that while she was ill, and then I'm going

to eat my gun. He'll never know what I feel, and it'll make it easier for

him to get over me. Do your worst."

"Very well, I will," she said softly, her eyes hard and dark, and her lips

curved in a cold smile, "but do you really want me to possess the body of a

homeless man, and have him push Scully in front of a car?"

"Leave her out of this!" he pleaded desperately. "She's never done anything

to you!"

"Neither have you. Neither did Harry," she laughed. "I don't care. I just

want justice for my son."

"JUSTICE!" Mulder yelled. "How can you talk about justice when..."

"Do you want Scully to live," she said, shrugging her shoulders

indifferently, "or do you want her to die? If you want her to die, then, by

all means, continue your disrespectful behavior. It doesn't matter which to

me. You'll have to do what I say eventually."

Mulder took in a deep, shaky breath. "You know that I want Scully to live,"

he whispered, "I'll go with you."

"Very good choice, Agent Mulder," Madame Ly beamed at him, filling his mind

with an image of her dramatically swirling her yellow silk robes around

them.

He felt himself ascending higher and higher, the cold wind battering his

body. When he dared open his eyes, he saw to his surprise, that he was

flying unsupported by anything other than Madame Ly, over Washington D.C.

"Where are we going?" He said awestruck, rigid with fear and cold, his lungs

filled with icy air.

"To your death," she replied grimly.